Spotlight (Yuri Plisetsky x Reader) ✔

4. Russia

We left the hotel early. It was six in the morning. Saying I was tired was an understatement when I had to be woken up at five to have breakfast and get ready.

Russia was only three hours ahead of us, so jet lag wasn't going to be much of a problem with it only being nine o' clock there.

I made sure I had everything, gave the passports and tickets to my manager, then we took a taxi to the airport, where I was escorted by a huge body guard through customs, to the highly lavish 1st Class area.

Two girls who were outside in the corridor drinking coffee recognised me, smiled and waved. I waved back, and they turned to each other excitedly. I wanted to go and say hello, but as I moved, the body guard flung his arm out and stopped me. I smirked, then looked back over sympathetically at the two of them, who were now taking photos of me. I smiled for them, before I was rushed along into the lounge.

Will, my manager, was there waiting for us, his phone in one hand and a coffee in the other.

"Hey [F/N]. Go help yourself to some snacks over there. I just need to make a few phone calls." 

"Okay," I replied.

I walked over to the colourful buffet that was set out behind the glass. I asked for a coffee and a rather tasty-looking chocolate chip cookie.

Sitting alone by the window, I watched the planes as they entered and landed on the runway, in their dozens every minute. The sun was rising on this cold winters day.

The village where we were doing most of our filming was going to be very cold, so I'd been told, so my suitcase was packed with only thick jumpers and warm socks. Holding tighter onto my coffee, I sighed into the window. I hadn't even boarded the plane and I was already exhausted.

To pass the time, I decided to pull out the heavily detailed script from my bag. The film starts in London, but we're filming that scene another time, about halfway through filming,  because one of the british actors were busy, and weren't available until then.

Soon after, my manager came back in, sitting opposite me in another sofa, watching the view as I continued to read through the scene where I meet the man I fall in love with, and who was, the killer I was supposed to be chasing.

"Boarding flight 3644 to St. Petersburg, Gate 3." came the announcement. We stood up, and picked up our bags. The time now was half past eight.

"Ready?" Will asked.

"Yep," I replied, then followed him with my bag around my shoulder.

We were on first, as we were travelling in the first class area. I was given a large window seat,  while Will sat next to me. I sat up watching the air hostesses get ready for take-off as everybody else boarded.

When everybody was on, it was the standard procedure. The air hostesses did their normal routine, while the speakers explained the energency procedures. I then sat back, waiting for the plane to reach the runway.

I then watched as the ground beneath us disappeared as we raced through the runway, and into the sky.

"You okay?" Will asked, again.

I nodded. "Yeah, great."

I turned away, back to look through the window, and as the sea came into view, I imagined how long it would take to swim home to my family.

* * *
After twelve hours of sleeping, eating and reading the script of the movie, there was a seat belt announcement, and the plane started it's descent down into St. Petersburg.

The time was now eight at night. I stretched quietly, then took out another sweet to suck on while the plane moved down.

As I turned to look through the window again, I almost choked on my sweet.

The plane ripped through the clouds, revealing the beauty of Russia's countryside.

Before I knew it, St. Petersburg was in sight. The city looked beautiful, even if everything only looked like tiny squares.

Excited, I packed away my things, and put my bag on my lap. I was on the edge of my seat, desperate to get off.

"You ready for your week off before filming?" Will asked.

"Of course! It'll be great!" I grinned.

He nodded. "Just remember that you'll have a few things to prepare for first."

Determined not to let work ruin my holiday, I shrugged. "Yeah, I'll get them sorted tomorrow or something so they're out of the way."

He nodded, then busied himselfby tidying up his things. It had been a long day, and the both of us were in desperate need of good food and some sleep.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are now arriving in Saint Petersburg. We hope you all had a nice experience on board, and we hope you enjoy your stay here in Russia. If you're travelling forward, we wish you all the best. Thank you for choosing Aeroflot. We hope you'll come again," came the announcement from the captain.

The plane then landed, and we moved through the long runway at Pulkovo Airport. It was new and modern. Unlike any I had seen.

We left the plane, and headed over to Passport Control. I handed my passport to the woman at the desk, who took one little look at it, then gave it back to me. She obviously didn't know who I was.

I loved Russia already.

Then we found our suitcases in the big baggage area, and I was quick to walk past a group of friends on holiday together, who looked so happy and excitable, making me remember that as cool as it was to be in Russia, I was still experiencing the whole thing alone. Even Will was preoccupied on his phone.

We followed the exit signs and were out in the huge entrance hall before we knew it. A huge group of tall men in suits were all hanging around, waiting, holding papers with the names of the different people they were coming to pick up.

Will had his hand on my back, moving me to where we had to go. He stopped in front of a man, that had a piece of paper with '[F/N] [L/N]' typed up on it. He was bold and tall, and grinned as we appeared. 

He shook Will's hand, then mine, and introduced himself. His Russian accent was deep and kind.

"Hey there! I'm Ivan. I'm your offical chauffeur, Miss [L/N]," he smiled. I smiled back and nodded. He continued; "I'll be the one taking you different places during your stay here in Russia."

"Ah, okay! You're in good hands [F/N]!" Will said, while struggling with one of his bags, that couldn't fit in the trolley I was pushing.

"Please, allow me," Ivan said, taking the bag and effortlessly picking it up under his arm. "Okay, follow me. I'll take you to the car."

With all the bright lights shining the black sky, I walked in awe, and the excited butterflies in my body took over again.

We followed Ivan to a Rolls Royce that was parked in the corner of the busy car park.

Once Ivan had finished loading the boot with the suitcases, I was still outside looking at the airport and its architecture. I then walked over to him and asked if I could take the trolley to the trolley drop-off area that was just on the other end of the car park.

"Please, I really wanna look around!"

"Be my guest," he smiled. With a huge grin, I took the trolley and pushed it down to the trolley shed. Even that was fancy in its own way, tidy and clean.

I walked back, then a moving advertising screen caught my eye. I watched the Russian writing and the colourful pictures of toothpaste, then the advert changed.

The familiar logos  and pictures came back in my mind from when I researched events in Saint Petersburg the other night. It was an advert for the Grand Prix Figure Skating Final. Six faces were on screen. The finalists, I assumed.

As the advertisement changed, I wondered whether or not I would have time to go and see it.